


The Burning Dawn

by redmorningstar



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route Spoilers, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmorningstar/pseuds/redmorningstar
Summary: Byleth, the Ashen Demon. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions beneath a mask, not like he was. Rather there seemed little behind her unreadable gaze at all. She was cold and hard like…  a weapon. While Dimitri found it difficult to admire someone like that, he could see the value of receiving her guidance. With her direction, then what he hoped to achieve would become a reality. And that cold hardness… well, perhaps he could stand to learn a little of that from her, too.-Dimitri is drawn to Byleth from the moment they meet. Except... he’s not her student, he’s not anyone of importance to her at all. How can he hope to hold onto something that was never his to begin with?A Silver Snow/Church Route AU Dimileth. Rating may change and tags to be added.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this fic for on and off since June last year. The main reason I wanted to write this fic was because of "that scene" in the War Phase of Silver Snow — it has haunted me ever since I played it. (If you haven't seen it, you can find it on YT pretty easily.)
> 
> Please enjoy the first chapter! Kudos and comments are always welcome and appreciated ♥
> 
> Twitter: [@redmorningstar1](https://twitter.com/redmorningstar1)

The mercenary’s name was Byleth.

She and her father had been strangers a day ago, simply a fortuitous meeting on a dusty village road when he and his peers had been in need. Dimitri had expected a reward to be granted for their assistance before being sent on their way. To hear that the pair would stay on at Garreg Mach with Jeralt rejoining the Knights of Seiros and Byleth appointed to the teaching staff was a shock, to say the least. 

The next time he saw Byleth was in the Entrance Hall as she took the time to speak with Edelgard, Claude, and then finally himself. Her dark eyes were cool and impassive as he introduced himself. Dimitri found it difficult to maintain her gaze. “In any case, welcome to the monastery. I hear you're investigating the different houses. Did any of the Blue Lions catch your attention?” Dimitri asked curiously.

“Yes. You," Byleth said blandly.

“Me? Oh. Um. Please forgive me... It's difficult to open up on the spot, don't you think?” There was little he could tell her without revealing the whole painful tale and he could not bring himself to do it in only the second conversation between them. Dimitri deflected, helplessly, “I'm afraid my story has not been a pleasant one... I do hope that doesn't colour your view of me, but I understand if that can't be helped.” It was hard to read what she thought of that answer. Byleth moved on to ask about each of his classmates instead and gave no indication about whether he had impressed or disappointed her with his descriptions. Dimitri found himself breathing a sigh of relief once their conversation was over and she went on to the classrooms to meet the other students for herself.

“So, what do you think? Our new professor is an odd one, isn’t she?” Claude asked as he walked up. Edelgard was close behind, already shaking her head in disapproval.

“The same could be said for you, Claude,” she pointed out archly. “Even so, you can’t deny that she’s talented. I, for one, would be happy to have her as my teacher.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t say no to being tutored by a famous mercenary for the rest of the year. Especially one with a moniker like the Ashen Demon,” Claude said with a thoughtful look. At Dimitri’s frown, he continued, “That’s what people call her, out of respect… and fear, of course. It seems that even when she is killing her enemies, she doesn’t bear a hint of emotion. I noticed that a bit myself when she was fighting bandits. Rather chilling, don’t you think?” Claude concluded with a sharp smile. Dimitri wondered what Rhea had seen in the mercenary that had made her insist on the appointment; it seemed a strange history for one who had been hired to teach students, after all. His companions were looking at him, clearly curious to know his impression. Dimitri shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“The decision is in the hands of the professors. I am looking forward to learning as much as I can over the next year, no matter who guides me,” he said finally. Predictably, Claude rolled his eyes at his earnest response.

“Well, our year at the academy will be interesting, if this first event is anything to go by,” Edelgard remarked noncommittally, her violet eyes cool as they regarded him.

“So long as future events don’t involve more attempts on my life, I’m more than happy for it to be _interesting_ ,” Claude said with a wink. As the three of them made their way towards the classrooms together, Dimitri found his thoughts drifting to the new professor again.

Byleth, the Ashen Demon. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions beneath a mask, not like he was. Rather there seemed little behind her unreadable gaze at all. She was cold and hard like… a weapon. While Dimitri found it difficult to admire someone like that, he could see the value of receiving her guidance. With her direction, then what he hoped to achieve would become a reality. And that cold hardness… well, perhaps he could stand to learn a little of that from her, too.

The hope was short-lived as the news soon broke that the new Professor had chosen the Black Eagle House. Of the other teachers, Manuela would take charge of the Golden Deer, and Hanneman would lead the Blue Lions. Dimitri did not let himself feel too disappointed; he was at the Academy to fulfil the task entrusted to him and whoever his teacher was would not change that.

-

The first test of the new Professor’s mettle came at the mock battle. Edelgard was by the Professor’s side the entire battle, but it was Byleth herself who faced him in combat. By all accounts, Dimitri should have had the advantage with the reach of his spear, but he was unprepared for her speed. She closed on him quicker than he had even thought possible and it wasn’t long before he was lying in the dirt with a training sword at his throat. It had been a while since Dimitri had been knocked down like that, though looking up at her he felt nothing but admiration. That someone so young could achieve that much strength… Dimitri vowed he would train and study well to follow her example. Then he would have an excuse to fight her again if only to test himself against her once more.

Edelgard seemed to relish having Byleth as her new professor. Over the next months, Dimitri saw them together quite often around the monastery: talking after class in the courtyard, sparring together at the training grounds, eating together in the dining hall. Was it just his imagination that Edelgard was softer in her manner towards the Professor than to others? Or was it simply the contrast when set against her manner towards him? Dimitri tried not to let it play on his mind. Even at a distance, Dimitri noticed her students were growing at a rapid pace and he could understand why: the Professor was not simply a gifted fighter, but a brilliant tactician as well. She led them to victory in their first mission against bandits in the Red Canyon. The next month, when Lord Lonato’s militia had ambushed them on the road, she managed to get all of the students back to Garreg Mach with no loss of life. Byleth had even kept pace with Cassandra, of all people.

The next time Dimitri saw her in action was at her first seminar for the year. The classroom was quickly filling with students waiting for the Professor to arrive and while he spied many of his classmates in attendance, his eyes were drawn first to his fellow house leaders. Claude beckoned him over with a wave of his hand.

“I was just asking Edelgard about how she’s finding things. She’s had the exciting missions so far, don’t you think?”

“You have been in danger far more than the rest of us,” Dimitri agreed. “I was relieved to hear your class has made it through, though I’ll admit I was concerned.” Edelgard’s eyes flashed with annoyance. 

“Killing bandits and cleaning up militia is hardly as dangerous as you both are making it out to be. Perhaps you doubt my abilities?” She asked. Dimitri sighed; he was always misstepping with her, it seemed.

“I meant no offence. Only that a battlefield holds many uncertainties. One can never be too careful,” he said because he could not help worrying for her even so.

“Also you weren’t stuck doing training maneuvers with the knights for the past month,” Claude pointed out. “Seems the Archbishop holds your house in high esteem.”

“Perhaps,” Edelgard said at last, but she wasn’t looking at them any longer. Instead her gaze turned to Byleth who had appeared at the door. The room quickly hushed in anticipation as the Professor took to the lectern at the front of the room.

“Let’s begin,” she said without preamble. The lecture was informative, but Dimitri’s hands itched to put her descriptions into practice. The mercenary’s teaching style was of one who knew their craft well without necessarily knowing the steps they took to achieve it. Seeing an opportunity during the break, he approached her.

“Professor, you mentioned that once you have broken your opponent’s guard, it is possible to down them in one strike if the timing is correct. Could you elaborate further on this?” Dimitri asked. When the Professor paused to consider her answer, he suggested, hesitantly, “perhaps... a practical demonstration?” Byleth nodded thoughtfully.

“Dimitri, would you assist me?”

“Of course, Professor.” She motioned for him to join her at the front of the room and then proceeded to break his guard repeatedly in front of the whole cohort. Perhaps it should have embarrassed him, but he felt quite the opposite. Going through the movements seemed to help her elaborate with more detail as the seminar went on. At the end of the seminar, the Professor found him as he was packing his things.

“You did well today,” Byleth said. Her unexpected praise made the back of his neck grow hot, though fortunately the blush did not spread to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Professor. It was all due to your coaching.”

“It was a good suggestion to do a practical demonstration.” Byleth paused as if she was not used to using so many words to communicate all the time and every word needed careful consideration. “Thanks,” she said finally.

“Not at all. I look forward to your next seminar, Professor. Be certain you can call on me for any future demonstrations you like,” Dimitri told her with a bow.

“Professor?” It was Edelgard waiting at the door. Her eyes swept over Dimitri carelessly before settling on the Professor. “I am ready when you are.” Byleth nodded, going to the other woman’s side. As he watched them go, Dimitri tried to take comfort in the knowledge that Edelgard would be safest in the Professor’s care and yet the emotion that stirred in his chest when he saw them together felt far from it. Though as to whether the emotion was directed towards Edelgard or the Professor, he could not discern.

-

The year had hardly even begun and it was already far more eventful than he ever anticipated. This month was no different. Only the Knights and the house leaders had been briefed on the suspected assassination plot. While the Black Eagle House had been tasked to anticipate where the strike might occur, his own house had been ordered to add security around the marketplace during the Rite.

So far, all was calm. There were more visitors to the monastery now than at any other time of year, so many people who could be a part of the plot or simply innocent bystanders who could become caught in it. Though the atmosphere in the marketplace was light and jovial, Dimitri could not feel a measure of it. Every smiling face was a mask hiding true intentions underneath. Plots of assassination, conspiracy… he could not help the dark parallels his mind drew, though he would have rather not considered it. And beneath all that was a concern for the Professor and Edelgard who were seeking the would-be assassins out. If they found themselves outmatched, could he get there in time? Or perhaps he would not hear of it until it was too late, until the ground was slick with their blood, their eyes lifeless and accusing…

“Your Highness.” Dedue’s voice broke through his pensive thoughts. “Are you all right?” Dimitri glanced at his friend’s face, concern writ clear in his features.

“Yes, Dedue. I apologize for allowing my mind to wander.” Dimitri scanned the marketplace once more, feeling restless despite his words. “The current situation simply brings to mind the tragedy from four years ago.”

“I understand, Your Highness. I have felt it keenly this month, too. The monks would not let me near the investigation because of it.” Dimitri tensed at that, as he always did when faced with the unjust prejudices against Dedue and the people of Duscar.

“I am sorry that you suffered such unfairness again, Dedue.”

“It is understandable, Your Highness,” his friend said with dismissiveness, though Dimitri hardly agreed. His friend went on, calmly. “The situation discomfits me, Your Highness, but I am aware that it is unlike how it was four years ago. There are knights and our peers covering every inch of the monastery grounds. If something were to occur, there is every chance we could stop it before it turned dire.” Dimitri nodded, comforted by Dedue’s reasoning.

“I agree. I only hope the Professor and Edelgard remain safe. If anything were to happen to them…” Dimitri did not allow himself to finish that thought.

“Have you spoken to Her Highness yet? About your past?” Dedue asked carefully. Dimitri shook his head.

“No… the more I interact with her, the more I realise that she does not remember me at all. Which is for the best. We are both different now. It would be pointless to pretend otherwise.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dimitri saw movement. It was Cassandra moving at pace with a unit of knights across the monastery. Though his feet itched to follow them, he stayed put. Dimitri had his orders, no matter how much his heart wished otherwise.

When the festivities were over, the news came to them: the assassination plot was nothing but a ruse to distract the knights as thieves from the Western Church broke into the Holy Mausoleum. The Black Eagle students sustained a few injuries, but there were no casualties among them, thank the Goddess. Perhaps most startling of all was the object of their heist: the Sword of the Creator, a Hero’s Relic of legend, which had now been entrusted to the Professor's care. Dimitri had heard stories of the weapon from Claude, but they seemed exaggerated. A sword that could cut a mountain in half? It was too fantastical to be believed.

-

The months went on, and it felt as if trouble brewed at every step. Worst still, the troubles continued to spill over from the Kingdom. When the news of House Gautier’s stolen Relic weapon broke, Dimitri had petitioned the Archbishop fiercely to send his House to deal with it. For reasons he did not understand, Rhea refused his request and she sent the Professor and Edelgard instead. It burned him to feel so powerless.

The moment the Black Eagle House returned from Faerghus, Dimitri knew things had not gone well. They brought with them the news of Miklan’s death and upon hearing it, Sylvain had disappeared from his room. He could not be found, no matter how hard Dimitri and the others looked. That night Ingrid, Felix, and himself stood vigil at Sylvain’s room into the early hours of the morning until they saw their friend stumbling down the dormitory corridor. When he came into view, Ingrid’s spine stiffened.

“Aw, waiting up for me?” He asked lightly with a slur. His lip was split bloody, but he still threw a brittle smile their way. Everything about Sylvain at that moment seemed so very... breakable. It made Dimitri feel powerless once more. It made him want to _hurt_ things.

The next day, Dimitri went to visit the Professor after his classes had finished. He waited for her students to file out one by one and when Byleth was alone at last, Dimitri approached her.

“Professor, might I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, Dimitri, what do you need?” Dimitri drew a breath, brought a hand to his breast, and bowed low.

“It is twice now that you have travelled to the Kingdom and resolved issues that should not have come to your attention in the first place. Professor, as the future king of Faerghus, I owe you my thanks,” he told her solemnly. She tilted her head at him, a questioning look on her face.

"I did what needed to be done," Byleth replied simply. Dimitri shook his head.

"Even so, I am grateful to you. Know that I am in your debt," he insisted. She nodded, but her expression was still unsure. Dimitri vowed that he would find a way to repay her before the year was out.

“How is Sylvain?” Byleth asked. The concern was clear in her face; Dimitri found it comforting to see that she did bear emotions like the rest of them.

“He…” Dimitri sighed, wondering how to put it into words. “It’s complicated. He oscillates between anger and sadness. His brother was never kind to him, but family is family. Those bonds cannot be erased, even if we wish them to be.” If she wondered at his turn of phrase, she didn’t show it. She looked at him thoughtfully.

“You are the Crown Prince of Faerghus, but Edelgard said it is your uncle who rules as regent instead. Why can’t you take the throne?” Byleth asked with curiosity. Dimitri grimaced. The topic was a source of endless frustration and friction for him, especially recently.

“A rule of law prohibits me from ascending the throne until I am eighteen. For the past four years, my uncle has been regent, but it is not enough.” Not enough to rebuild their fractured Kingdom, not enough to stabilise the aggravated conflicts, not enough to move _forward_. Dimitri drew a breath, wary of the anger that was bubbling to the surface; it would not do to show the Professor that side of him. “I apologise. I am burdening you with issues that do not concern you.”

“I was a mercenary. I’m used to getting involved in the issues of others,” Byleth replied nonchalantly. She considered him. “Is that why you invited me to return to the kingdom with you when we first met?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “The conflicts in our kingdom have been worsening steadily across the years. Each dispute weakens our position and makes the task of governing all the more complicated.” Dimitri sighed. “I can only hope that when I do finally ascend to the throne that it is not too late.”

“So after you graduate from Garreg Mach, you will become king? It is not so far away,” she pointed out.

“No, I suppose it is not.” He did not want to dwell on that. Time was slipping away quicker than he ever imagined and still he had nothing to show for it. He needed to be stronger and smarter to catch up to the foes that walked just steps ahead. “But enough of that. How are you settling in as a professor? Is it what you expected?”

“The missions are not unlike mercenary work. We are given a task, we prepare, and then we get the job done.” Byleth’s expression turned wry. “The teaching is another matter, of course.”

“Well, it is obvious to me that your students have benefited from your tutelage. And they all adore you — that, too, is clear,” he reassured her.

“Thank you, Dimitri. Hearing that makes me feel…” She paused, searching for the words again. “Pleased,” she finished at last and though she did not smile, he could tell she meant it. An idea struck him suddenly.

“Tell me, Professor, if you are not otherwise occupied, would you consider training with me? I would love nothing more than to measure my skill against you again.” Every student in the Academy wanted the chance to spar with the Professor and as the stories of her prowess grew, even the knights were clamouring for the chance to measure up against her.

“Why not?” Byleth agreed with a shrug.

Dimitri had always prided himself on his accuracy. It was something he had worked tirelessly to hone over the years because if he could hit his enemy, then often enough the strength of his blood would take care of the rest. It proved insufficient against the Professor who stepped and maneuvered around his lance with an effortless grace as they sparred. For every attempt to strike her, she dodged and scored a point of her own. Was this simply the experience of a mercenary? No, it was more than that. Dimitri had fought knights in their prime with more experience and training and even they did not move as she did.

It spurred him to fight harder, to fight smarter; Dimitri watched her every movement with keenness, looking for any sign of a tell. Just as he was starting to predict her, she would do the unexpected. And she made it look easy. All in all, the training session was an absolute thrashing and Dimitri relished every moment of it. When he finally landed a strike on Byleth’s flank, he could not contain his elation.

“A point at last!” He exclaimed. “To your... thirty.” Joy bubbling up in his chest, unbidden and unexpected. The Professor lowered her sword, her guard relaxing as she wiped away the sweat that had gathered on her face with a careless hand.

“Yes — you earned it.” Dimitri was about to suggest one last round when the monastery bell began to toll the ninth hour, well past dinner. Had so many hours passed without him realising? The Professor looked just as surprised.

“I am sorry to have kept you so long, Professor. That was rather greedy of me to keep you all to myself today,” Dimitri said, apologetic. She shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she said and then, blandly, “I had fun.”

“So did I. I would love to do this again with you sometime if you are not opposed,” he ventured and was relieved at her nod.

“I’d like that.” Byleth’s voice grew hesitant. “...do you think the kitchens are still open?” She looked so concerned that Dimitri chuckled, surprising even himself.

“You must be famished. You don’t usually miss meals, do you? I always see you sitting with your students in the dining hall.” Dimitri took her training weapon, putting their gear away on the weapons rack. “Come with me. The kitchens will be closed now, but we may be able to beg for some leftovers from the head chef if we are very convincing.”

-

The Professor had been looking out of sorts since they had come to Abyss. It was a lot for all of them to take in — an underground town hidden beneath Garreg Mach, a secret fourth house. If they hadn’t come here themselves, he would never have believed it. Dimitri was both curious and uneasy about their current predicament, but it was not simply regarding the attacks on Abyss. Spending so much time in close quarters with Edelgard reminded him constantly of the insurmountable distance between them. Today it weighed heavily on him and he found himself eschewing the company of his peers to wander the town himself; there was only so much he could take of Claude’s teasing and Edlegard’s distant gaze.

Away from the central street, down a seldom-used corridor, he stumbled upon the Professor. The sight of her calmed him, softening that edge of nervous energy that had been following him. He went to her, keeping his footsteps audible so that he would not surprise her.

"Professor? I hope I am not interrupting." The Professor turned to him, the concerned look on her face relaxing.

"Not at all, Dimitri. Is there something wrong?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you that very thing. You looked pensive. I wanted to know if there was anything I can do to help you." Byleth shook her head.

"I'm fine. Just tired. There haven’t been many breaks between the fighting since we've come here."

"You're right about that." Dimitri noticed a bandage around her right wrist and thumb; he did not recall seeing it before the last fight. "Is your hand troubling you?"

"Just a strain." After a moment of hesitation, Dimitri held out his hand.

"There’s a technique I learned from my old sword teacher. After long hours of training, I would develop muscle cramps in my hands and it often helped me. May I?" He asked. She tilted her head curiously at him, but did place her hand in his. Dimitri did not let himself notice how warm her hand was, or how well they fit. Instead, he ran his fingertips firmly along the length of her palm, searching for the source of her tension. Finding a particularly rigid muscle knot around her thumb, he began to massage the area with careful attention. She did not flinch, but he saw her brow furrow.

"That _hurts_ ," Byleth commented with a note of surprise in her voice.

"Apologies, Professor. It's not too painful, is it?" She shook her head. They were both comfortably quiet as Dimitri continued his attentions. He had seen how hard the Professor had been pushing herself in combat lately and knew she was trying to protect all of them by putting herself in the line of fire. Next time, Dimitri would insist on being put in the front to bear the swords and axes instead.

“There,” he said once he felt her hand soften and relax in his, warmed and loosened under his touch.

“It feels much better,” she told him once he had stopped.

"I am glad I was able to help you, after all," he murmured. It took a moment for Dimitri to realise that he was still foolishly holding her hand in his own, his thumb absently stroking the soft skin of her wrist. He let it drop, his cheeks heating with embarrassment at himself. "I should leave you to your thoughts. I have taken up enough of your time."

“Dimitri … thank you,” Byleth said as he turned to leave. Dimitri had never seen her smile before, but now she did, the curve of her lips small and precious like a flower blooming in the dark. It stopped him in his tracks, heart thudding so hard in his chest he wondered if she could hear it.

“Oh,” he said, a little stunned, “you’re smiling.” Byleth tilted her head at him curiously, her expression faltering slightly.

“Is that strange?” She asked. Dimitri quickly shook his head.

“No, it’s… mesmerising, actually,” he admitted, more warmly than he thought to. Her smile grew a little wider and Dimitri was helpless to do anything but smile back.

-

At the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Dimitri had the opportunity to meet the Professor in combat again. He might have been mistaken, but he thought he spied a small smile on her face before she moved in to engage him. He was stronger than he had been five months ago and had built solid muscle to withstand her blows, but he was still no match for her. Dimitri fought long and hard, but the Black Eagle House emerged the victor.

The feast that night was a joyous affair. Edelgard, Claude, the Professor, and himself sat at the same table, sharing food and stories. Their classmates mingled following the example set by their house leaders as divisions of class, nobility, and allegiance were properly put aside for the first time he could remember. Raphael and Ingrid were discussing the details of every course that was served at length; Flayn was laughing brightly as she listened to Alois tell an animated tale; even Felix had cracked a smile or two at Caspar and Linhardt’s antics.

“It was truly a battle well fought,” Dimitri said over the remains of their dinner.

“Yes, and I almost had you, too, if only Lorenz hadn't gone off on his own,” Claude chimed in dryly.

“Even then, you cut through so many of our forces,” Dimitri protested. “I had no idea that Hilda could swing an axe like that.” Claude waved a hand nonchalantly.

“Oh, she wouldn't want you to know it, but she can swing an axe with the best of them. She tries to avoid work wherever possible, but fortunately, we have an understanding.” Edelgard leaned closer with interest.

“Which is?” She prompted.

“A secret, obviously,” Claude replied with a quirk of his lips. Edelgard scoffed and shook her head.

“I wished I could have faced her,” Edelgard said after a beat. “It would have been interesting to see how we measured up to one another.” Byleth leaned forward, drawing the eye of each of them.

"You would have won," the Professor asserted, her tone quiet but sure. "You have intent. Hilda doesn't."

“So says the best combat professor at the Academy.” Claude leaned forward, his green eyes alive with curiosity. “What other matchups could you tell us about? Hmm, what about… Hubert and Edelgard?” Both Byleth and Edelgard frowned.

“He would never fight her,” Byleth replied slowly.

“But what if he did? We are just discussing hypotheticals, after all,” Claude said, his eyes sharp.

“Intentions matter,” she said bluntly. Dimitri kept silent; it was something he also knew all too well. “People aren't just figures to be maneuvered. The moment you think of them that way, you've already lost.” Claude laughed.

“Good answer, Professor! I think I enjoyed that more than any possible outcome.”

They soon moved on to lighter, more jovial topics, but Dimitri couldn’t quite forget the Professor’s careful dissection. Her clear eyes saw all, piercing through their actions and into their hearts. Dimitri wondered what her eyes saw when they looked at him.

After dinner was over and they separated to converse with their peers, Dimitri found his eyes kept seeking the Professor frequently through the night. Perhaps it was the wine addling his mind, but he thought she looked radiant under the candlelight, her dark eyes alight with more emotion than he had ever seen from her before. She was standing with Catherine and Shamir as they argued over the particulars of a past mission and she was smiling at them with easy amusement. Dimitri wished, with a sudden and fierce possessive pang, for her smile to be directed solely at _him_.

The feeling struck him as sudden as a blow. Dimitri had not thought about such a thing for the longest time and now he could feel it in his belly, like a coiled spring: _longing_. How pointless. He was at the monastery for a purpose and anything else was a distraction, nothing more. The Black Eagle students were leaving now and Edelgard was walking close at the Professor’s side, as was her place. They fell into step easily with the casual familiarity of two who knew each other well. Dimitri felt the sharp bite of jealousy like a thorny bramble in his throat, but he knew it was useless to feel that way. He could never belong there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I was contemplating adding another scene at the end, but I kind of liked ending it where I did. Thank you all for the comments on the first chapter, they really encourage me to work hard on getting this story out there. ♥
> 
> All feedback is appreciated. Thank you for following so far and hope you enjoy the next.
> 
> Twitter: [redmorningstar1](https://twitter.com/redmorningstar1)

Dimitri put the Professor out of his mind as the weeks slipped by. He applied himself fervently to his studies, his training, to the needs of his classmates. He did not think of a pair of dark eyes, a gentle curving smile, or the graceful arc of a sword.

If only it was that easy.

As the knights returned from Remire and the reports of what they had seen began to circulate the monastery, all intentions of staying distant were lost. Dimitri was looking for the Professor to check that she was well and unharmed when he ran into Captain Jeralt in the Entrance Hall.

“Captain, it is good to see you returned safely. I heard Remire was a despicable situation. How are you faring?" Dimitri asked. The stony grimace on Jeralt’s face spoke volumes.

“It was horrible. Most of the villagers got out with their lives, but still.” Jeralt sighed. “I wish we could have done more.”

“And did the villains responsible pay?” Dimitri asked. Something in his tone must have given him away his feelings because Jeralt gave him a sharp look.

“Unfortunately, the main players are still at large,” Jeralt replied slowly.

“I see.” Dimitri tried to school his features, storing that anger within for later. If he had been there, nothing would have stopped him until every last drop of their blood had been spilled; such atrocities could not go unpunished.

“She’s okay, you know. Your Professor. That’s who you were looking for, right?” Jeralt asked pointedly. Dimitri considered denying it, but under Jeralt’s assessing gaze, a denial would achieve little.

“I am relieved to hear it, Captain. I was concerned,” Dimitri admitted.

“She was angry, too. The whole time she was at Remire Village, she was furious. You reminded me of her just then.” Jeralt lowered his voice, his expression suddenly turned serious. “Anger can be helpful, but it can also burn you out from the inside. You’d do well to temper that anger of yours unless you want to find yourself controlled by it.”

“I…” Dimitri could not find the words for a response. Jeralt shrugged and the moment was broken.

“Just a word of advice from an old man,” he finished nonchalantly.

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the advice. I will think on your words,” he replied honestly. Jeralt nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Byleth talks about you, you know. She says that you're kind. I can see what she means,” Jeralt noted. Dimitri ducked his head, a little embarrassed.

"…The Professor is a good person. Though I’m not one of her students, I have learned much from her,” he managed. The corner of Jeralt’s mouth lifted in a wry smile.

“Is that so? And inviting her to the Kingdom with you when you first met? That was so you could learn from her?” Dimitri stared dumbstruck as Jeralt laughed. The mercenary clapped a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder firmly. “You’re okay… for a prince,” he said finally with an amused huff. “I’ll tell my daughter that you were looking for her.”

Then Jeralt went on his way, leaving Dimitri feeling faintly astounded in his wake. He could not help noting the uncanny resemblance between Jeralt and his daughter, especially in the way their eyes saw through Dimitri as easily as glass.

-

The night of the ball arrived, though Dimitri could not say he was exactly looking forward to it. Dancing was bittersweet at the best of times, but Edelgard’s presence made it all the more difficult. The way she carried herself across the ballroom floor was so achingly familiar that it was hard to watch. Even so, Dimitri did as was expected of him and danced with partner after partner before eventually escaping the ballroom with some assistance from Ingrid and Sylvain. 

Dimitri walked the monastery grounds in an attempt to burn away the agitation lingering beneath his skin. The night air was a welcome reprieve from the warm and stifling ballroom. His head cleared with each step and each lungful of crisp air; it would be even colder in Faerghus right now and he felt suddenly homesick for the snow and the pine and the mountains. Lost in thought, Dimitri’s aimless wanderings continued until he found himself outside the cathedral. The monument was dark and silent at this time of night, but he was not alone. Even at a distance, he could recognise the Professor’s silhouette limned in the moonlight. She had looked beautiful tonight, dancing gracefully with each of her students despite being unfamiliar with the steps. But as she stood solitary in the vast chamber, Dimitri thought she looked… lonely.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked through the side door out onto the terrace and Dimitri followed against his better judgement. He caught sight of her as she opened the door to the Goddess Tower and disappeared up the stairs with purpose. Was Byleth meeting someone? Or did she simply wish to see the stars on this beautiful night? For a long moment, Dimitri considered going in after her, but stopped when he caught sight of a flash of white hair. Of course Edelgard would be meeting Byleth there. He had foolishly forgotten his place for a moment, had let his sentimental heart fill his head with wishful thoughts.

Dimitri did not return to the party after that. He was not confident that his smile would be passable anymore. Instead, his feet drew him away from the frivolity and liveliness towards the empty training grounds. Perhaps the swing of a sword would wash these romantic notions from his head on this cold, beautiful, lonely night.

-

Dimitri woke from a troubled sleep on the morning of his eighteenth birthday. When he was a child, his father would be the first to greet him. He would come to Dimitri’s bedchambers at dawn to give him his present in private before the day would even begin. Then they would go together for breakfast in his step-mother’s parlour, where she would smile and touch his face with a gentle hand, and comment wistfully that he was growing up so fast. In his dreams last night, their faces had been blurred, indistinct; he could not help feeling that with each passing year he was drifting further away from them.

Dimitri would have liked the day to have passed without fanfare, but there was little chance of that: there were well wishes from all his peers, presents from his fellow Blue Lions, and the promise of cake at dinner. He did his best to keep his smile on for the sake of his companions, at least. And, of course, for the Professor who was waiting for him after classes had finished for the day.

“Dimitri, happy birthday," said Byleth. “Do you have time to join me for tea?”

“Of course, Professor. It would be my pleasure.” Dimitri followed her to the gardens and the table she had set out for them. It was calming to watch her go through the motions of preparing the tea — warming the teapot, adding the leaves and water, laying out a set of cups and saucers while it steeped. He had often heard Ferdinand speak highly of the ritual, but Dimitri had never understood his meaning until this moment. The Professor poured him a cup of fragrant tea and the scent drifted towards him, comforting and familiar.

“Oh,” Dimitri said with faint surprise. “That smells delightful. Chamomile is my favourite.” He was certain he had never mentioned that detail to her before. Byleth gave him a conspiratorial smile.

“I know. I asked Dedue. He was even able to help me source a good supplier of herbal teas.”

“I appreciate the thought, though you did not have to go to the trouble,” he protested.

"It was no trouble, Dimitri,” Byleth assured him. The porcelain teacup looked so delicate in his hand that it would take all his concentration to avoid cracking it. He took a careful sip and let the brew warm him. Perhaps it was a combination of the tea and the company, but the dread he had been carrying from the morning had eased somewhat. Dimitri winced when his cup hit the saucer with a clatter, startling them both. He was gratified to see it was still in one piece, however.

"Perhaps it is because of my strength, but I have always been rather clumsy. I always end up breaking things that are precious," he said apologetically. Byleth shook her head.

“If something breaks, it can be repaired again,” she replied, pragmatic as always. Byleth was watching him attentively over the rim of her cup and he found his smile growing wider without effort. “Can I offer you some advice, Dimitri?” she asked suddenly.

“Of course, Professor. I am always happy to learn from you.”

“I noticed that you keep to yourself more and more these days. You must have a lot on your mind,” she commented.

“The year has passed quickly. I am simply aware that there isn’t much time left,” Dimitri replied lightly. Byleth hummed thoughtfully as if sensing all the things he did not say.

“Don’t be distant. I know you are not my student, but I worry about you,” Byleth said. The look in her eyes was soft and warm, surprisingly so. “If you want to talk, I’m always here.”

“I’m grateful for that, Professor. Truly,” Dimitri replied honestly. “But I feel I must ask… why me? Surely you must have your hands full with your own students.” The Professor was quiet as she considered the question.

“I like you. Isn’t that enough?” Her gaze was direct, without a shred of deceit or ulterior motive. Dimitri knew very few people with a gaze like that, least of all himself. He _wished_ he could be like that. Dimitri set his teacup back in its saucer as he considered his next words carefully.

“Professor… after this year is over, I will return to the Kingdom and assume the throne." Dimitri met her gaze steadily. "I want you to know that my offer still stands. I would be honoured if you would come back to the kingdom with me. Faerghus needs people like you.” She passed him a questioning glance.

“Faerghus needs me?” Byleth echoed.

Perhaps it was a result of his sleep-deprived mind, but Dimitri didn’t stop himself from saying, “The truth is I want you by my side.” Silence fell between them and Dimitri felt a prickle of shame at his offhand remarks. He laughed self-deprecatingly. “You do not have to answer right away. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t. Though if you wish for me to never bring it up again I will, of course, remain silent-”

“All right,” Byleth interjected bluntly. To Dimitri’s surprise, she smiled a little then, almost shy. “We can talk after graduation. I’ll tell you my answer then.” Dimitri returned the smile gratefully. That she might even consider the possibility was enough.

“Thank you, Professor.”

The memory of that shared moment buoyed him in the days after, renewing every time they crossed paths in the monastery. Her potential answer became a source of bright hope for him, something to look forward to at the end of his Academy days. Dimitri did not think he imagined that Byleth felt it, too.

But of course, it could not last. Joy was so fleeting, after all.

-

Dimitri only heard about Jeralt’s death after the fact. Too late, always _too late_. He had wanted to go to the Professor’s side straight away and offer what comfort he could, but he had refrained. Dimitri knew it wasn't his place to offer that comfort, though he sorely wished to. Instead, he sought out Edelgard to ask after the Professor. Dimitri caught her alone on the bridge to the Cathedral, watching the valley below with a complicated look on her face. Her expression turned shuttered when she noticed him approaching.

“I heard what happened at the Chapel. The Professor… how is she?” He asked. Edelgard raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alois was with her. I haven't been to see her yet," she answered slowly.

“You have not gone to see her?” Dimitri repeated, surprised. He knew as well as anyone how close they were. "Surely the Professor could use your support at a time like this." Edelgard gave him a small smile, though there was little in the way of humour in it.

"You underestimate her. She's strong. I know she will be able to put her grief aside and keep moving forward soon enough." At first, Dimitri could hardly believe his ears. He had known that Edelgard could be distant at times, but this behaviour was cold even for her.

“Put her grief aside? The Professor has just lost her father. She has no family left,” he pointed out emphatically.

“I am aware,” she responded implacably. There was such a hardness to her that Dimitri could hardly comprehend it. Some might have called it strength, but to Dimitri it simply felt cruel. 

"Have you no ounce of sympathy in your heart? Her father was killed right in front of her eyes. You expect her to simply let it go, just like that?" Dimitri demanded, unable to level the anger from his voice. Edelgard's mouth tightened.

"Will my sympathy bring her father back? Will it bring her enemies to justice?” Edelgard returned, her clear voice ringing in the air. “Those who cannot move forward will be left behind. It is as simple as that." 

"I do not understand you. Grieving those we have lost is not a weakness," he insisted. Father, Mother, Glenn… the memory of them was the only thing that propelled him forward.

"We will have to agree to disagree on that, Dimitri," Edelgard said with finality. Dimitri shook his head in disgust.

"There is no talking with you when you think you are right," he said bitterly. Dimitri could not stay a moment longer. He turned on his heel and left, utterly consumed by fury at Edelgard who could have been at the Professor's side, but had chosen otherwise.

Dimitri saw the Professor many days later at the training grounds. It was her first appearance since her father’s death and though her face was pale and her eyes were still rimmed red, she was here at least and not locked away in the Captain’s room all alone.

“I'm so sorry about what happened to Jeralt,” he said when she approached him. “No, of course my sorrow is nothing compared to yours. You've… been on my mind.” The words felt wrong somehow, too shallow for what he truly wanted to say. He thought back to Edelgard's words and felt remorse at how he had responded. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her; after all, there were no perfect words for times like this. No person’s grief was the same, nor their response to that pain. Perhaps the words Edelgard had imparted had helped her in her time of hardship. Dimitri considered what comfort he had been able to find when his family had been murdered and supposed that he could offer that to the Professor, at least. “Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…” He swallowed painfully. “My strength is yours alone. I will fight as you command… I will kill anyone should you ask it of me.” It wasn't his place to promise such things and yet he meant every word. Despite his best intentions, Dimitri _cared_ for her.

"Thank you, Dimitri," Byleth said, but his heart sank at her hollow tone, at her expression which was as distant as the Blue Sea Star.

Dimitri encountered her again later that night, though he had not expected to. He had wanted to clear his head with training before retiring to bed and was surprised to find the Professor already there when he arrived. She looked... tired. Not just physically, but something in the way she moved betrayed a heaviness that could only come from within. He thought to keep out of her way, but she stopped when she noticed him grabbing a training lance from the weapon rack.

“Good evening, Professor. Are you almost finished for the evening?” Dimitri asked.

“No… I was planning to continue for a little longer.” Byleth looked down at her hands and sighed. “I can’t seem to master this technique. If it wouldn’t disrupt your training, could you give me a hand?” Dimitri nodded; he would do anything she asked of him.

“Of course. What do you need me to do?”

“Strike me with the lance. I’ll try to evade you and cast this spell in the same movement.” Dimitri took his place across from her, stance at the ready.

“Understood. Ready when you are, Professor.” At her nod, he lunged, aiming the arc of his spear at her body. Byleth dodged his strike with a ready step but wasn’t quick enough with her spell; he side-stepped it with ease. She shook her head dismissively.

“Again, please.”

“Of course.” Her second spell was faster but far less accurate, leaving her hands too early and hitting the floor at his feet. They spent the next hour training the sequence, repetition after repetition. Dimitri watched as her attention wavered and her steps faltered, and yet the look on her face was determined when she asked him to attack her again and again. Eventually, her footing slipped and Dimitri quickly dropped his lance to hold her steady.

“Are you all right?” He asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Byleth insisted, but Dimitri could see otherwise. Her breathing was laboured and her body trembled with fatigue. In his arms, she felt as insubstantial as air, like a strong wind might dissipate her entirely. Dimitri cursed himself for letting her push on so long.

“Let’s stop for the evening, Professor. I think you and I could both use a rest,” he said gently. Byleth shook her head and pushed herself out of his arms weakly.

“I still haven’t mastered it,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“I would be happy to continue this tomorrow. But right now, you would only end up injuring yourself. Your students would never forgive me if I let you continue in this state." Byleth bowed her head, silent. “Please. I am worried about you, too.”

At last Byleth spoke, haltingly, "Before I came to the monastery, there were only two things in my life: my father and fighting. Now that he's…” She trailed off and drew a sharp, pained breath. “Fighting is all I can do now," she said finally. There were no tears in her eyes, no tremble in her lips… she simply looked lost and empty. Dimitri knew the dark place she was in all too well. 

“Is that the answer you've found within yourself?” He asked gently. At least he could offer her this in her time of need.

At the question in her eyes, Dimitri drew a breath and began to speak. He told her of the event which haunted his every moment, the one that had changed him irreparably. Though he tried to recount the events dispassionately, he was certain he failed on that account; the memories never failed to stir the guilt and pain of that day. Even so, the Professor heard him out silently, her dark eyes watching him without judgement. When he had finished, Dimitri took her hand in his in an attempt to soften his next words. “Jeralt is gone... So, what will you do now, Professor? What must you do? Look deep in your heart and I'm certain you'll find the answer there… indelible and inescapable.” He might have left her to her thoughts then, except her hand was clinging to his as tightly as a lifeline. With slow and heavy steps, Byleth returned to the circle of his arms. Dimitri didn’t know how long they stayed like that with her face tucked against his chest and his arms wrapped around her. To him, nothing else was more important than this. The Professor, who loomed so large in their lives, seemed small and fragile just then; though he could not shield her from the pain, he would hold her for as long as she needed.


End file.
